


See Under: Ink, Taste Of

by jenish (phizzle)



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-19
Updated: 2006-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/jenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta by laurelcrowned. For overloved.</p>
    </blockquote>





	See Under: Ink, Taste Of

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by laurelcrowned. For overloved.

When Spencer had sidled up to Jon in the dressing room and murmured, "I'm going to get a tattoo tomorrow, do you want to come with me?", Jon had replied, "Sure."

He'd only been half convinced Spencer would actually go through with it.

And yet, he found himself the next day, sitting in a tattoo place in Vancouver listening while Spencer talked to the tattoo artist about rock music and crows, lying on his front on the padded folding table. Jon kept one eye on the people passing by the windows and one eye on the muscles of Spencer's back, flexing and relaxing in rhythm with the soft buzzing and the conversation. Jon joined in every now and then, but mostly he watched.

"So did it hurt?" Brendon asked when they got back to the bus, examining the top of Spencer's back. The tape holding the bandage down was a few millimetres under Spencer's hairline, and Jon wondered if any had been caught in the taping.

"Like a bitch," Spencer replied. "And right now my arms and my back feel _really weird_. But it's going to look way cool when it's healed."

"How long will that be?" Ryan asked, head close to Brendon's, riveted by the covered patch of inked skin.

Spencer shrugged. "Few weeks. I have to make sure I don't get it wet, so uh, washing my hair will be interesting."

"I'll help," Jon offered, and Spencer smiled at him. A slow curl of his mouth that reached his eyes like smoke rising.

"I know," he said, and Jon almost blushed. _How you make everything sound sexual is beyond me_, he thought at him.

"Okay, _anyway_," Brendon said after a moment, "we should get going to sound check."

Spencer called Pete before the show, to ask how long his back would feel _this_ weird, because he felt like he was seriously having to push his body to move while he was playing. Jon could hear Pete's voice, but not what he said; evidently, he was telling Spencer he probably shouldn't be drumming on the same day as getting a tattoo on his back. Spencer, of course, ignored him and asked again how long.

"What did he say?" Jon asked when Spencer had hung up.

"A day, maybe two," Spencer answered. "And I won't stop playing tonight."

"Okay," Jon said, and listened that night over the sounds of his own playing and Brendon's voice and Ryan's guitar (and the _screams_) and thought Spencer had sounded a little off. Spencer just shrugged when he said as much.

"Maybe," he conceded, "but I wasn't too bad."

"No, I thought you were okay," Ryan agreed, and Jon said that yes, he'd sounded okay, and left it at that.

It was always cramped in the bunks with two of them, but Spencer liked to sleep half on top of Jon, and Jon was kind of used to his warm weight by now. He traced his fingertips over the bandage, and murmured into Spencer's hair, "I wonder if it'd taste any different."

"What do you mean?" Spencer's eyes were closed and he was drifting towards sleep, lulled by the movement of the bus and the lateness of the hour.

"The tattoo, when it's healed. I wonder if it'd taste any different to the rest of you." He leaned down and kissed him, soft meeting of lips, drawing away again with the smallest of sounds, parting skin.

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out." And Spencer still had his eyes closed, but he was smiling, and it wasn't the kind of smile he usually gave; it wasn't suggestive, it wasn't ecstatic, it was just … serene. Jon liked getting that smile.

Spencer kissed him again, a sleepy slow movement, and they fell asleep like that, pressed together in the bunk as the bus rattled on into the night.

The tour ended, and Jon went back to Chicago to see his mother and hope his cat remembered him. Spencer flew out a week later and Jon met him at the airport, holding a huge cardboard sign he'd painted with glue and shaken glitter over, reading 'ILU SPENCER'. Pink glitter had gone over the heart shapes, and blue glitter over the drumsticks he'd drawn crossed under the letters. Spencer saw it and laughed so loudly Jon heard him from the other side of the room.

"You fucking girl," he giggled when he'd finally walked up. Jon dropped the sign and hugged him.

"You're more a girl than I am, Spence," he laughed. "Which makes us lesbians."

Spencer shook his head. "If you say so. Can we get out of here?"

"Absolutely," Jon breathed against his ear, and suddenly he didn't care if pictures of this were all over the internet within hours, he hadn't seen Spencer for a _week_ and he dipped his head to trail a line of light kisses over Spencer's neck.

Spencer bit his lip and automatically angled his neck. "Jon," he said. "Out. Of here."

"Right."

The ride back to Jon's place seemed longer than it was. They filled each other in on the past seven days. Spencer described a movie-going experience he and Brendon had had that had almost turned into a mobbing, and Jon talked about his cat and learning to cook pasta. He felt old, somehow.

"But you're as young as the boy you feel, right?" he grinned, one hand on Spencer's leg. Spencer laughed.

Jon piled Spencer's suitcase and bags in one corner of his bedroom and felt hands on his hips, leaned back into them. Spencer kissed his neck, reaching to tug at Jon's shirt.

"You don't waste much time, do you?" Jon breathed, pulling his shirt over his head and turning around to do the same to Spencer's.

"A week is a long time when you're horny," Spencer told him, going for Jon's belt.

"True." His hands worked at Spencer's zipper, and they broke apart to kick their shoes off, reconnecting again, arms and hands pressed together, struggling out of clothes. "Spencer," he exhaled, as his back hit the bed.

Spencer's mouth was warm above his own, and his tongue was doing quite marvellous things. Jon pushed and pressed against him, bare skin and friction and contact and they both came in ten minutes, shuddering, tiny noises collecting in their throats.

They curled in together, still twitching, and Spencer exhaled against his collar bone, mouth open and wet and kissing, and Jon wanted just to spend the day like this, couldn't see any reason why they shouldn't. "Jon," Spencer mumbled, nibbling, "I want you to fuck me in the ass," and his smile was warm and curved against Jon's skin.

Jon laughed. Four months previously, the only contact up to then being hugs and play fighting, Spencer had blurted it out as Jon had got up to go to bed; "Jon, I want you to fuck me in the ass," and he'd chewed on his lip and Jon had stared at him for a full minute before saying, "Well, can I at least kiss you first, Jesus Spence."

They lay, curled, touching, mouths and hands wandering over necks and earlobes (teeth, tugging) until they were both hard again. Spencer closed his mouth over Jon's cock, gave one short cheek-hollowing suck, and Jon groaned. Spencer licked, up and down, wet and sensation and so _good_, and then he was smearing lube onto his fingers and palm and wrapping his hand around Jon's cock and _pulling_. He looked at Jon with those fuck-me eyes and Jon rolled him over, Spencer on his knees, Jon fucking him with fingers first, then his cock, pushed in and _in_. Jon leaned his weight on his hips, slapped into Spencer, and Spencer moaned and pushed back onto him and bunched his hands in the pillows.

Jon wrapped one hand around Spencer's cock and pulled in time with the movement of his hips, curled his body over Spencer's and open-mouth kissed a line up his spine. Spencer moaned louder and pushed back harder and Jon's mouth connected with the tattoo. It had healed by now, and Jon licked it, let his tongue follow the swirls and arches of the pattern, Spencer twitching and panting under him.

"It does taste different," Jon breathed into Spencer's ear. "Just a little bit." He licked it again, fucked Spencer harder, and decided then and there he'd not only spend the day doing this, he'd do it all again tomorrow.


End file.
